


A JohnLock Christmas

by SHismyBFF



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boys In Love, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHismyBFF/pseuds/SHismyBFF
Summary: Sherlock and John spend the Christmas Holidays with Sherlock's parents, who help them realize what's important in life.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 140





	1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

John couldn't believe his good luck. It was the week before Christmas, and he was actually leaving work early. The clinic had been overrun with colds and flu, and most of the staff were taking their vacation days, so he had expected a long (and boring) week. He could never have predicted the cold snap, burst pipes and collapsed roof section that followed. Thankfully no one had been injured, but the clinic couldn't operate in its current state. The staff had all been sent home until further notice, which likely meant after the holidays. 

Christmas was John's favorite time of year. He couldn't really say why, he didn't have wonderful childhood memories or anything like that. There was just something about the crisp air, the twinkling lights that made him feel like anything was possible. He heard his text alert, and smiled a little as he reached in his pocket for his mobile. 

-Where are you? -SH 

-On my way home, roof collapsed at the clinic. Why? 

-I need you. Please hurry. -SH 

John frowned. Had his eccentric flatmate injured himself, or did he just need a pen handed to him? With Sherlock, he had learned it was better to ask before he panicked. 

-What do you need? Are you hurt? 

-No. I'm bored. -SH 

-Also, tea. -SH 

-What about tea? 

-I need some. -SH 

-Okay, well neither of those things are emergencies, and why can't you make your own tea? 

-Don't be ridiculous, John. -SH 

John's smirk turned into a full blown grin. Sherlock was exasperating at times, but this childish side of him was really quite amusing. 

-Ask Mrs. Hudson to make you some. I'm stopping at Tesco's, what do we need?

-John! I have been calling for Mrs. Hudson for hours with no response. I am unsure whether she is out or possibly dead. Please come home immediately and check. -SH 

John just shook his head, stuffing his mobile in his pocket. He really did need to go to the shop, they had nothing for dinner and of course they always needed milk. He thought out a short list, and headed into the nearby market. 

He walked slowly through the shop, grabbing things that looked good. Maybe he could tempt Sherlock to eat some dinner tonight. He saw a holiday display of sweets, and gathered a nice selection for his flatmate. Sherlock may not eat regularly, but he had an enormous sweet tooth. He would probably eat just about anything if it was dipped in chocolate. 

"Excuse me?" 

John turned from the shelf of tinned soups he was perusing to find an attractive girl trying to get his attention. He smiled at her questioningly, "Yes?" 

"Would you be able to reach that package of Ryvita for me? Of course the only one left is pushed all the way back, and I need a step stool on a good day." The girl smiled, apologetic and charming. 

John reached up (having to really stretch, himself), and pulled the box down for the stranger. He handed it to her with a friendly smile. "Here you go." 

"Thanks a lot! Happy Christmas." The girl flashed him another flirty grin. 

"No problem. Happy Christmas." He hesitated, considering asking her name, maybe inviting her for a coffee. The last few dates he had been on had been unsuccessful, never progressing past the first awkward drinks or dinner. This girl was cute and friendly, why not enjoy his unexpected afternoon off? 

His text alert interrupted his thoughts. "Oh um, excuse me a moment…" John turned away from the girl, pulling his mobile from his pocket. 

-Stop flirting with shop girls and come home. -SH 

John shoved his mobile into his pocket, he should have known. When he turned back around, the girl had gone. John let out a deep sigh, then hurried to finish his shopping. He had quite a few bags by the time he was done, and decided to take a cab home to Baker Street.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Minutes later, John was struggling up the stairs to the flat with his shopping. He pushed through the doorway into the kitchen, dropping the bags on the floor. Looking far from bored, Sherlock had taken over every available space on the table and counters with a new experiment. This one must have something to do with perfumes or cologne, and the combination of aromas that greeted John made him lightheaded. 

"Sherlock! I'm glad you found something to do, but please tell me why couldn't you have opened a window in here? This smell is obnoxious!" John stalked over to the window and pushed it open with a bit more force than strictly necessary. 

"Hmmm. Too cold." Sherlock wrinkled his nose, his lips forming a moue of distaste. He made a few notations in his notebook before removing his safety goggles and gloves. 

"How much longer will you be working on this experiment? There's no room for anything in here, I don't even know where you expect me to make tea, now that you've moved the kettle under the bench!" John leveled a gaze at his flatmate. 

He tried to keep a serious face, but Sherlock met his eyes, and the scolding look quickly turned into a staring contest between the two. They both made increasingly ridiculous faces, trying to get the other to laugh, while holding the stare. As usual, John broke first. Sherlock got him to crack by lifting the tip of his nose up with his finger, so that he looked like a strange beaver/pig hybrid. John cracked up every time he saw it, and this time was no exception. He laughed so hard, his eyes started watering. Sherlock smiled indulgently, calmly waiting for John's fit of giggles to subside. 

"Did you stop in and check on Mrs. Hudson before you came up? I was positive I heard her banging things around earlier this morning." Sherlock stood up and moved into the sitting room, where he proceeded to flop on his back on the sofa, with his legs hanging over the end. "Then again, it could have been the dustman, I wasn't paying close attention." Sherlock turned on his side to face John, and tried unsuccessfully to tuck his bare feet up into his pyjama pants. 

John saw his shivering friend's distress, and took a blanket from the back of his armchair. "Here, wrap up. Between breathing these fumes and walking around the flat barefoot in the middle of December, you're going to make yourself sick. Don't want to be feeling poorly at Christmas!" John helped tuck the blanket around Sherlock's feet, running his hands up Sherlock's legs and stopping at his hip, making sure he was wrapped up tight. "I'll get a fire going, and try to sort out some tea for us." He turned away, just missing the faint blush that his lingering touch brought to his flatmate's cheeks. 

"I ran into Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Turner on the street out front, they were heading out to do some holiday shopping. I should probably get started on that as well." John spoke distractedly over his shoulder as he tried to light a fire in the grate. "I was thinking about having a small get together with friends here, maybe on Christmas Eve?" John waited a few moments for Sherlock's reply, but it seemed none was forthcoming. Finally satisfied with the fire, he turned to face Sherlock. 

"Sherlock? You okay?" His friend looked decidedly uncomfortable, and was refusing to make eye contact. 

"Look, we don't have to have a party, it was just a thought," said John. "I just haven't got any plans yet, myself." He walked back towards the kitchen, it was past time for a nice cup of tea. 

"Umm. John." Sherlock said, swinging his legs off the sofa and following John, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. 

"Yeah? What's up?" 

"It's not that I don't want to have a party, although no, I don't want to have a party." Sherlock leaned against the counter, watching John prepare the tea. 

John handed him a steaming mug, then took a sip from his own. "Well, that's okay. Do you have other plans? Which is fine, by the way." 

Sherlock eyed John over the top of his mug. "Actually, we have other plans." Sherlock turned, carrying his mug back to the sitting room. He set his tea on the mantel, then retrieved an envelope from underneath the skull. He held it tightly for a moment, then thrust it in John's direction. 

"What's this?" Asked John. He took the envelope as he sat in his armchair. He pulled out the enclosed card and smiled as he read it. "Your parents have invited both of us to their house? That's really sweet of them to include me." John looked over at his friend. "You sure you want me to tag along? I know you don't get to see your family that often, I wouldn't want to intrude." 

"Don't be ridiculous, John" Sherlock scoffed. "You are my family. Of course I want you there." 

John was speechless. He set the invitation down, stood up from his chair, and wrapped his arms around his friend in a tight hug. Sherlock was surprised at the contact, and just stood there for a moment before cautiously patting John's back with his hands. John finally pulled back, but his hands remained on Sherlock's arms in a tight grip. 

"Thank you." John's voice was low and scratchy, as if he were trying not to cry. "You have no idea how much that means to me, Sherlock. I'd love to go with you to your parents for the holidays." John squeezed Sherlock's arms once more in affection before letting go and sitting back down. 

Sherlock stood like a statue for a few moments more before clearing his throat and collapsing into his own armchair in a dramatic pile. "That's sorted, then. We'll drive up on the 23rd, if that's alright with you. I know Mummy will have plans for us on Christmas Eve, there's always something going on in the village." Sherlock met John's eyes shyly. "I also need to do some holiday shopping, if you want to go together? That might make it a marginally more pleasant experience." 

John smiled brightly at his friend. "That sounds better than slogging about on my own, and you can help me choose gifts for your Mum and Dad! I never know what to give anyone." John settled back in his chair and closed his eyes, his feet kicked out to take advantage of the heat from the fireplace. 

Sherlock took the opportunity to study John, his cheeks flushed and his face peaceful. I want him to always look this happy, Sherlock thought. I'd do anything for him to always be this happy. His feelings for John had taken him by surprise at first, but had grown from what he classified as lustful (immediately following their first case together) to something much deeper, more meaningful. He had cataloged a number of shifts in their relationship over the past months, and felt confident that he was experiencing something unprecedented, definitely unplanned. 

He was in love with John Watson.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

John woke a few hours later to Sherlock playing his violin. He didn't recognize the tune, but it was something slow and melodic, not terrible to wake up to, he thought to himself. He was grateful to find that Sherlock had draped the blanket over him as he slept. He opened his eyes and stretched, his gaze falling upon the mantle. It took a moment for him to realize what he was seeing..."Umm, Sherlock?" He stood up and walked over to his friend at the window. 

Sherlock had stopped playing when he heard John stretching and moving about. He turned to face John with a small smile on his face. "Yes, John?" He replied. 

"Did you do this? Did you decorate the flat for the holidays?" John turned in a circle, trying to take in all the changes. There were white fairy lights strung around the mirror and both windows, along with strands of fir garland. The skull looked quite jolly in a Santa hat, and there was a wreath of fir branches and colorful bows adorning the bull on the wall. He thought he even saw some mistletoe hanging in the doorway between the sitting room and the kitchen. The horrible stench from earlier had aired out (still noticeable, but not as overpowering) and there was a definite hint of...was that cinnamon?...in the air. He faced Sherlock again, and was touched at the almost childlike shyness in his eyes. 

"You don't mind, do you? It's just that we have a few days here, and while I don't think we need to get a tree, I know you like things to feel festive. I thought this might do the trick." He waved his bow about to encompass the cheerful sitting room. Sherlock had wanted to surprise John, but maybe he should have waited and asked if John wanted to decorate together? 

"Are you joking? It's brilliant! I can't believe you did all this while I was napping right here!" John was shocked with his flatmates' actions, for once in a good way. "Would you be up for going out to eat tonight? Maybe we could get in a bit of gift shopping as well." John turned towards the stairs, ready to head up to his room. “I’ll just take a quick shower, yeah? Then we can head out.” He stopped and smiled over his shoulder at his friend. “This is really great, Sherlock. Really. Thanks.” He took the stairs two at a time, more energetic than he had been when he first came home.  
John gathered his things for the shower and bounded back down the stairs, where he saw Sherlock, now engrossed in his laptop in the sitting room. The fading light from the front windows combined with the fairy lights to cast a halo-like glow around the man. The heat from the fire had given Sherlock uncustomary rosy cheeks, and suddenly John was struck with the urge to run his fingers through Sherlock’s curls, and envisioned pulling his friends’ face close and kissing him. 

This wasn’t the first time John had noticed Sherlock’s appearance, nor would it be the last. He had resolved to keep these thoughts to himself though, mostly because Sherlock was his best friend and he didn’t want to do anything that might jeopardize that...also, from his observations so far, it didn’t appear that Sherlock was interested in having a romantic relationship with anyone. People were constantly flirting with the man, and it just seemed to go right over Sherlock’s head.

The bell from the door downstairs rang, breaking through John’s trance-like state. He sucked in a quick breath and turned away from the sitting room door, wondering who it could be. As far as he knew, Mrs. Hudson was still out, so he dropped his kit on the floor and took the stairs down, two at a time. He threw open the front door to find a courier standing on the step. 

“Good evening, sir, I have a package here for a Mister...Sherlock Holmes?” John leaned on the door frame, briefly wondering if he should be suspicious of the offered package. “I can sign for that, would you tell me who it’s from?” asked John. “Yes sir, just a ‘mo”...the courier shifted the package to read the delivery slip better in the light from the doorway. “It says here, sender is Mycroft Holmes”. The courier held out his tablet for John to sign. He handed John the package, which was a thin envelope, about the size of a magazine. “Thanks, have a good night” John said as he turned to close the door. He turned the envelope over in his hands, wondering what Mycroft would be sending Sherlock by courier. As he was coming up with more and more fanciful possibilities, his phone buzzed with a text.

\- Stop guessing. It’s a surprise. - SH

“Why are you texting me when I can hear you!” John called up in amused exasperation. He climbed the stairs, meeting Sherlock at the top. John handed Sherlock the package and bent down to retrieve his dressing gown from the floor. “A surprise from your brother sounds a bit scary,” John remarked as he turned, heading down the hallway to the bathroom. “Is it something to do with a case?” he asked. Sherlock moved to sit in his armchair, propping the delivery on the mantle along the way. “It’s Christmas, John. You should know better than to ask questions” Sherlock turned with a smile, falling back into his chair. He crossed his legs, briefly steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. “Do hurry John, I can hear your stomach grumbling from here”.


	4. Chapter 4

Their shoulders bumped companionably as they made their way along the crowded walkway. Sherlock had suggested the Christmas market at the Tate Modern, where they could grab a bite to eat and then browse the stalls for gifts. He didn’t enjoy holiday merrymaking as a general rule, but the thought of walking with John through the beautiful wooden chalets, looking at the lights and enjoying the music...well. That was a different matter. “Would you like mulled wine, or perhaps a cider?” Sherlock placed his hand on John’s elbow to get his attention. 

“Only if you promise not to drug me with it” joked John, giggling at Sherlock’s offended expression. “No thanks, but maybe later...I’m still stuffed from those sausages, it feels good to walk around”. He leaned a bit into Sherlock’s side. “Now, who do you still need to shop for? I’ve sent a voucher to Harry, but I don’t have any idea what to do for Mrs. Hudson, or your parents”. John looked up at the sky as they walked, enjoying the way the lights glimmered. “What about Mycroft?” John asked. “Will he be gracing us with his presence?” John swerved to avoid a group of running children, and found himself grabbing Sherlock’s arm to steady himself. The wool of Sherlock’s long coat felt damp from the chilly mist in the air.

Sherlock briefly put his arm around John’s shoulders to steady him, then dropped it back, joining his hands behind himself as he strolled. “Mycroft won’t be able to make it this year. Mummy is beside herself, she’s tried bribing him with promises of cake, but has remained unsuccessful so far”. Sherlock turned his head slightly, looking down into John’s face. He couldn’t help smiling, John looked so relaxed. The holiday lights were adding golden shimmers to the deep blue of John’s eyes, and his nose and cheeks were pink from the cold. 

“I ordered most gifts online this year, however I think I’d like to do something more personal for Mrs. Hudson” Sherlock said. John nodded, “She does put up with a lot from both of us...mostly you.” he chuckled. “How well do you know her? I know she enjoys baking and watching afternoon telly, that’s about it”. John felt a little guilty, Mrs. Hudson was amazing and he should make an effort to spend more time with her. New Years’ resolution, he thought. 

Sherlock stopped to look at some intricate glass art. “She and my mother have been friends since their school days, so she’s always been in my life”. He skirted around some shoppers to look at the items on the far side of the stall. “And you know she had a bit of trouble that I was able to help out with, with her husband”. Sherlock picked up a beautiful crystal sherry decanter, part of a set with two glasses on a wooden tray. “What if we get her this, and some dance lessons?” He asked. John was surprised at Sherlock’s use of “we”...would it be weird for them to give gifts together, like, as a couple? It makes sense, I guess, he thought, but it will definitely add fuel to Mrs. Hudson’s fire about our relationship status. John nodded slowly, reaching for his wallet. Sherlock shook his head, “Don’t worry about it John, we’ll figure it out later”. Sherlock went to negotiate with the stall owner, who was soon wrapping up their gift.

They continued on, stopping for roasted chestnuts and mulled wine. As they were passing a stall with pottery and ceramics, John chuckled at something that caught his eye. “What’s funny, what did I miss?” Sherlock scanned the display, his eyes landing on a pie dish with a message written in mathematical symbols spelling out I ATE SOME PIE ((√-1) (2^3) (Σπ).) stamped in the center of the dish. “John, that’s brilliant!” Sherlock sprinted over to the stall owner, and was soon the owner of said dish. “Did you know that Mummy is a mathematician? This is perfect for her! It’s silly, and she loves to bake.” Sherlock handed the shopping bag to John. “Okay, now just Father left...he’s a bit tricky.”

As they moved to the next stall, John heard his mobile chime. “Don’t tell me that’s from you”. He looked up at Sherlock and laughed, setting down the shopping bags on a nearby bench and pulling the phone from his pocket. “Huh. How social are you feeling right now?” he asked Sherlock. The look Sherlock gave him said it all, and set John laughing again. “Alright, alright...I only ask because I’ve just got a text from Lestrade, a few of the lads are getting together for holiday drinks tonight, and he’s invited us along”. John shifted the phone to his other hand so he could type in the address of the pub. “It’s not far from here, we could probably walk over if we wanted to join them.” 

Sherlock sat down on the bench. He was having a nice time with it being just the two of them, but maybe that wasn’t enough for John? He didn’t want to deprive John time with his friends. “John...I...I don’t know…” he stumbled. He felt uncomfortable and embarrassed at the anxiety a simple question had caused. John sat down next to Sherlock, putting a calming hand on his knee. “Hey, Sherlock....hey now, look at me.” John dipped his head down to try and catch the detective’s eye. “Hey, it’s fine. I’ll just text him back ‘thanks but we’re busy tonight’, no big deal.” John sent the text, then shoved his phone back into his pocket. “I’m having a great time just walking around with you tonight.” He could see that Sherlock felt awkward, and wanted to restore their easy, relaxed energy. “I have an idea of how to finish this evening...let’s catch a cab back to Baker Street, okay?” John stood up and held his hand out for Sherlock. Sherlock was grateful that John understood him so well. He took John’s offered hand, standing up and gathering the shopping bags. “Very well, John. Back to Baker Street.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, Christmas shenanigans have kept me from writing! Hope you are enjoying the story.
> 
> -SHismyBFF

It was the smell of fresh coffee traveling up the stairs that roused John out of his deep sleep the following morning. His mind was slow to catch up, remembering that he didn’t have to report to the clinic this morning. He decided to wallow for a bit in the coziness of his blankets, burying his head deeper into the pillow. His thoughts started turning over yesterday’s events. Last night had been...interesting. Good. Maybe...really good? 

He and Sherlock had changed into pyjama pants and old sweaters when they got home, and John made homemade hot chocolate. He opened a package of cookies while Sherlock lit the sitting room fire. They turned on the telly and sat down on the couch, deciding to watch a rerun of the 2008 Gavin & Stacey Christmas Special, which was just beginning. 

John unpacked their purchases, and dragged out the bin with wrapping paper, gift bags and ribbons they had collected over the last few years. Surprisingly, gift wrapping was an activity that Sherlock thoroughly enjoyed. He took great care in choosing complementary paper and ribbons, making exact corners when folding the paper, and using minimal amounts of cellotape. The gifts were wrapped in no time, and set amidst the piles of case folders and scientific journals on the desk.

John had settled back into the sofa with his legs propped on the coffee table, while Sherlock disappeared into his bedroom. He returned with an incredibly soft-looking, cream colored throw blanket that he draped over himself as he sat down next to John. John felt hyper aware of the closeness of their bodies...he could feel Sherlock’s body heat radiating next to his thigh and was finding it quite distracting. If it was anyone besides Sherlock, he would put his arm around them and draw them close...probably go in for a bit of snogging. But it’s Sherlock. Sherlock wouldn’t want to make out with him...would he? John didn’t know if he was brave enough to find out.

The next thing he remembered was waking up to Sherlock leaning over him, his hands gently squeezing John’s shoulders. John groaned quietly, looking around in confusion. “It’s all right, John. You fell asleep, if you stay here all night your shoulder will hurt for a week.” Sherlock took John’s hands in his, rubbing them and pulling John to a standing position. “Ta Sherlock, you’re right.” John leaned forward, feeling slightly unsteady on his feet. Sherlock stepped into his personal space, likely intending just to steady him, but in his sleepy state, John leaned forward into Sherlock’s chest, circling his arms around his friend and hugging him tightly. John rubbed his face on Sherlock’s soft sweater, inhaling the warm scents of sandalwood and cinnamon. He hummed in satisfaction. “Mmm...this is nice” John mumbled sleepily.

Sherlock stood silently, holding John’s sleepy form close to him. What does this mean? Does this mean anything? Is it possible...could John have...romantic...feelings for him? Sherlock’s mind was racing behind his stoic exterior. Sherlock didn’t have answers to his many questions, but as the world’s only consulting detective, he knew the way to find them...experimentation. He slowly moved a hand from John’s back, up to cup his head. He positioned John’s head just a bit closer to his face, ruffling the hair at the nape of John’s neck with his fingers. Sherlock slowly brought his face down, gently pressing his lips to John’s forehead. John continued to snuggle contentedly, saying “I had so much fun with you tonight. Wish it was Christmas all year.” Sherlock smiled - interesting results, he thought to himself.

John opened his eyes slowly, finally realizing what was happening, where they were.

“Sorry, Sherlock...I’m so sorry. I was more tired than I thought, I guess.” John let his arms drop, taking a deep breath. “I’ll head up to bed, I think.” Sherlock smiled at him, saying softly, “You do that, John. Sleep well.”

The sun was beginning to warm the room by the time John felt ready to get up. He was looking forward to a lazy morning with coffee and the papers...and, yes...spending the day with Sherlock. He was pulling a sweater over his head when he heard a familiar “Whoo hoo! Boys!” from downstairs. John smiled, bounding down from his room to greet Mrs. Hudson. “Happy Christmas, Mrs. Hudson!” John leaned over the tray she was carrying to kiss her cheek. “All ready for the holiday? Did you and Mrs. Turner finish your shopping last night?” Mrs. Hudson set the tray of scones down on the kitchen table, which was surprisingly clear. Sherlock must have actually cleaned up last night...it’s a Christmas miracle, John thought, chuckling to himself.

“Oh John, we had the best time. I only needed a few bits and bobs, you know, but we had fun window shopping.” Mrs. Hudson turned, looking around the kitchen. “Where has Sherlock gone? I thought I heard him talking to someone...I only noticed because it was quite early, you know.” She picked up a cloth and started wiping the kitchen counters, then filled the electric kettle and switched it on. John glanced around the sitting room, but didn’t see anything that would indicate Sherlock’s current whereabouts. He glanced down the hallway, where Sherlock’s bedroom door was completely closed. That’s unusual, he thought. 

Just then, the door swung open, spilling out sunlight and a perfectly put together detective. Sherlock was dressed in his dark grey suit pants and a pale blue Oxford shirt, with the top button left undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His curls had been tamed and he actually appeared well rested for once. “Morning, Mrs. Hudson!” He called as he swept through the kitchen. “Ah, John! I’m glad you’re up. We have much to do today. Have you eaten?” Sherlock picked up the paper from the desk and promptly collapsed into his chair. Mrs. Hudson followed him into the room, “Oh my! The decorations look wonderful!” she exclaimed. “So festive!”

John carried two mugs of freshly made tea through, setting one down next to his chair and handing the other to Sherlock. “I’ve just come down, myself,” John replied to Sherlock, “and the decorations, Mrs. Hudson...all Sherlock!” John smiled, sitting himself down in his chair and taking a sip of tea. John looked at Sherlock over the edge of his mug, remembering the feel of the man’s lips against his forehead. He hoped the steam from the tea would excuse the blush now coloring his cheeks. “You look very nice today, Sherlock.” John had wondered if Sherlock would act differently this morning...it felt like their relationship was shifting into unknown territory, and yet, they hadn’t spoken directly about it. 

Sherlock met John’s eyes, sharing a small, shy smile with him. “Thank you, John.” Sherlock said, softly. Turning his attention to Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock set down his tea and stood up. “Mrs. Hudson, John and I will be leaving tomorrow morning for the duration of the holidays. We have gifts for you, if John agrees, I’d like to give them to you now?” John nodded his agreement as Sherlock pulled the gifts from the pile on the desk. “Oh my boys, that is so kind of you! I’ll be going to my sister’s myself on Christmas Eve.” Mrs. Hudson sat down on the sofa to unwrap her gifts. She carefully lifted the decanter from its box, the crystal hit with sunlight creating a prism effect, spreading tiny rainbows all over the ceiling. “Oh, isn’t this stunning? I’ll have to start entertaining more so I can show this set off!” Mrs. Hudson tucked the piece back into the box and set it down, then picked up a thick envelope with her name on it. “Sherlock and I agreed last night, Mrs. H., that you should have a rest and pamper yourself a bit, so we hope you’ll enjoy this voucher.” John was happy with their decision to purchase a spa weekend for Mrs. Hudson and a guest, and even better, they were able to print the details from the website. “The Lime Wood Hotel? Oh my, this looks so lovely!” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. “Oh you boys, you shouldn’t have gone to such an expense!” She stood up, hugging both John and Sherlock in turn. “Don’t be silly, Mrs. Hudson. What would we ever do without you?” Sherlock picked up his violin. “Any requests?”

Sherlock’s impromptu Christmas concert was quite pleasant, with only a couple of arguments breaking out over song lyrics, facts, and origins. John ate his fill of scones, and even got Sherlock to eat by purposefully leaving his plate within Sherlock’s reach, as he knew Sherlock wouldn’t be able to stop himself from taking bites of John’s breakfast. “All right, must get on, John! We’ve places to go, people to see!” Sherlock was practically vibrating with energy. John was tying his shoes, then grabbed his jacket. “Mrs. Hudson, have a wonderful Christmas, and safe travels if we don’t see you before we leave tomorrow.” John gave her a quick hug, kissing her cheek. “Happy Christmas, boys!” Mrs. Hudson called after them, hearing the front door slam behind them.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

As it happened, it was Christmas Eve when Sherlock and John finally threw their bags into the back of the rented Land Rover for the drive north. 

After they bid Mrs. Hudson goodbye, John had followed Sherlock into a waiting cab. Sherlock turned to John, noting that he had grabbed his lighter jacket. John’s voice echoed in his head - wrap up, don’t want to be feeling sick at Christmas! - Sherlock unwound his scarf, leaning close to John. “Here, John. Allow me.” Sherlock gently wrapped the scarf around John’s neck, adjusting it carefully. “I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

The sweetness of the gesture made John’s heart skip a beat. John leaned to the side, pressing his shoulder to Sherlock’s. “Thanks...thank you, Sherlock.” John cleared his throat. Now is as good a time as any, he thought. “So listen...Sherlock…”, John began.

Sherlock’s mobile buzzed just as they were pulling into traffic. He held up a silencing finger to John as he answered. “Lestrade.” Sherlock spoke quietly yet tersely. “Address?...Yes, we’re on our way.” He pocketed the mobile, calling out the change of destination to the driver. 

“What’s up?” asked John.

Sherlock turned to face John with a smile. “Case, John. We’ve got a case!” he exclaimed. “Christmas has come early!” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

John loved helping out on cases, being able to observe Sherlock’s brilliance in action. The changes he was noticing in Sherlock’s behavior...well, that conversation could wait. Sherlock typically wouldn’t eat or sleep while on a case. Somehow, John doubted an in-depth discussion about feelings would be a priority.

The cab delivered them to meet Lestrade at an address near Chelsea Bridge, where they encountered a horrific scene. The subsequent 36 hours had been non-stop, unraveling the multiple homicide case - which turned out to be the aftermath of a fatal disagreement among members of an international counterfeiting syndicate. 

Sherlock was still riding the high of success when they returned to Baker Street in the wee hours of Christmas Eve morning. He ran up the stairs, shedding articles of clothing as he went. John followed, huffing in exasperation. “At least wait until you’re in the flat, you great berk!” He was exhausted and starving, so having to pick up after a grown man was just not on. 

Sherlock paused in the removal of his trousers, as he registered the fatigue in John’s voice. He turned and met John on the landing at the top of the stairs, noting the dark circles under the man’s eyes. “That was an unexpected Christmas treat, John.” Sherlock reached out and took his coat out of John’s arms, hanging it on the coat rack as they moved into the kitchen.

“Not for the four people that were killed it wasn’t.” John removed his own jacket and Sherlock’s scarf, hanging them up before moving to fill the kettle. “You were brilliant as usual, the way you deduced that poor parking attendant in front of his boss though...he’ll be looking for a new job come New Year’s!” John chuckled wearily.

Sherlock smirked. “I merely pointed out the fact that he had been borrowing vehicles for personal use, I’m surprised he wasn’t caught out before now.” Sherlock invaded John’s space, pressing into him as he reached above John’s head to grab two mugs, setting them on the counter. 

It was at this point (right...those are his nipples!) that John realized his flatmate was wearing nothing but his trousers. “Hang on, how did you get out of your clothes so fast...even your socks!” John felt his face flush with heat. He turned to grab the tea bags, hoping that Sherlock wouldn’t notice the effect that the proximity of his body was having.

Sherlock actually spent a good deal of time lounging about wrapped in a sheet, so the sight of his half-naked body wasn’t shocking to John. It had, however, been increasingly difficult to ignore his own response to it...how in the world does he have those abs when all he eats is sugar?!

“I thought I might get a quick shower before we go, I have 12 missed calls from Mummy.” Sherlock replied, lazily. He turned to walk down the hall to the bathroom, removing his trousers as he went. Now that the case is over, my experiment on John Watson continues. He shimmied just a bit more than necessary to drop his pants.

John moved to follow him, catching a healthy glimpse of a very firm, rounded backside before Sherlock disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door. Now John was tired, hungry, frustrated and...god help him...aroused. “Sherlock! You didn’t let your parents know we would be late?” John raised his fist, banging on the door that separated the men.

Sherlock whipped the door open, his lower half now wrapped in a towel. “It’s fine, John. My parents know me, they know we’ll get there when we can.” Sherlock brushed his sweaty curls off his forehead, leaning on the doorframe. 

He could see the effect his body was having on John, and he was enjoying it. “I’ll text Mummy at a more reasonable hour to let her know we’re on our way.”

John felt flustered. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Okay, well...we need to have something to eat and get some sleep before we leave, at least a few hours. I’ll make us a snack while you shower.” He turned and headed back to the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder “And don’t take all day styling your hair!” John giggled as he heard the detective swear at him good-naturedly.

It was almost noon by the time Sherlock settled into the driver’s seat and plugged his phone in, choosing a Spotify playlist. John adjusted the heat settings from the passenger seat and sat back. He was asleep before they were even out of London. 

John awoke to Sherlock arguing with a podcast. He struggled to sit up, taking stock of himself and his whereabouts. “Hey, Sherlock…” he started. Looking at his watch, John saw that over two hours had passed. “Sorry I slept so long.” He rubbed his face with his hands and tried to smooth his rumpled hair.

“John. Welcome to Honeybourne.” Sherlock felt a small sense of pride that John had slept peacefully the whole drive, that he had kept John safe. Sentiment. They had just entered the village of Honeybourne, where his parents had settled for their retirement years. 

“This is really beautiful, Sherlock. It’s...what’s the word I’m looking for…?” John was charmed by the snow-covered buildings circling an enormous Christmas tree in the center of the village square.

“Pedestrian?” Sherlock supplied. “Tiresome, tedious…take your pick.”

“No, you tit, I was going to say picturesque, for your information” retorted John.

“Hmm. Quite.” Sherlock agreed. 

It was a short drive through the village before they were surrounded on all sides by farmland. The homes were few and far between, breaking up the monotony of the snowy landscape. They drove past a split-rail fence and over a small hill. Nestled in the valley was what John would describe later as a Christmas card brought to life.

The Holmes lived in a beautiful stone cottage, which was decorated very tastefully for the holidays with evergreen garlands and wreaths, red bows, and white fairy lights around every window and door frame.

“Now I see where you get your decorating abilities,” said John, just a bit awestruck with the scene.

Sherlock chuckled. “Oh, John.” He pulled around the curved drive, stopping at the front door. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies if you were hoping for a Christmas quickie, but the chapter count has gone up! I hope you don't mind too much :) Also, I took artistic license in naming Sherlock's parents. I just like those names. Thanks for reading!

Snow crunched under John’s feet as he carried their bags up the front steps. The sky was a brilliant, shining blue and the air smelled like wood smoke. Despite the idyllic setting, John’s stomach was a bundle of nerves. Get it together, Watson, he thought. 

Sherlock eyed John furtively, noting his signs of stress. Pale complexion, clenched jaw, white knuckles gripping the bags...he’s nervous. But why? Turning to face him on the doorstep, Sherlock placed his hand on John’s arm.

“Umm. John.” Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, considering the most effective method to address John’s discomfort. He put his hands in his pockets, then leaned in...bending forward just a bit...to capture John’s lips with his own. He remained pressed to John’s face for a few moments, analyzing the kiss and John’s reaction. This is drier than expected. John smells nice. He isn’t doing anything. Why isn’t he doing anything? 

John took a small step back. “Umm...sorry but...did you just, um...kiss me?” John’s expression was a mix of surprise and - was that relief? Sherlock was scrutinizing John’s reaction closely as he answered. 

“I did, John, I thought that’s what people did when they care about each other.” Sherlock stepped away and tilted his head. “Was I wrong to do that?” he asked. 

John’s anxiety at meeting Sherlock’s family was forgotten for the moment, but he wasn’t exactly comfortable having this conversation on their doorstep.

“No, not wrong Sherlock...but usually when it’s two people who are unrelated, there are romantic feelings involved.” John set the bags down, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Do you…” John was interrupted by the front door swinging open, revealing a beautiful older woman.

Mummy Holmes had the same height, otherworldly eyes and high cheekbones as her son, but that’s where the similarities ended. She had round, rosy cheeks and a soft, huggable body, which was currently wrapped in a festive holiday apron. 

“Sherlock! What are you up to, standing out here?” Mummy pulled him into a hug. Releasing him, she turned her attention to John. “And you must be Sherlock’s John! Welcome, welcome...come inside! It’s too cold to be dawdling on the steps...come in, come in.” She shooed them both through the door. 

John set the bags down in the foyer, his mind reeling. Does Sherlock have feelings for me? Would he want to have a relationship? Sherlock’s John?! John was having difficulty concentrating on the introductions. “Good to finally meet you, Mrs. Holmes.” John offered his hand in greeting. 

Mummy took it, and pulled him closer. “John, you must call me Mummy, or Mum is fine, too. Sherlock has raved about you, and we consider you part of the family now. Daddy can’t wait to meet you.” Mummy was so warm and genuine, John couldn’t help but feel at ease. Sherlock caught his eye and gave him a look that John could only describe as tender. He felt his cheeks go pink as he smiled at them both.

Mummy turned to Sherlock with a scolding expression. “Daddy’s been beside himself, wondering if you were actually coming, Sherlock. Shame on you.” Sherlock arranged his facial features to look properly chagrined. He took her free hand, giving it a squeeze. “My apologies, Mummy. We had a case, it was unavoidable.” 

Mummy stood between the two men, hugging a hand of each close to her chest. “Charles! Our wayward son has arrived at last!” She called. “Come out and greet John!” Mummy released their hands and disappeared through a doorway. John took the opportunity to look around. The floor was a rich hardwood, the walls painted cream. Every possible surface was adorned with holiday garland and white fairy lights. Christmas cards were hung from velvet ribbons all along the staircase railing. The air smelled deliciously of evergreen and gingerbread.

Mummy reappeared, gently pulling Daddy Holmes along by the hand. He was a handsome gentleman - lean and lanky with keen eyes and an abundant shock of white hair. He was dressed in a thick cardigan and worn trousers, his feet sporting brown suede reindeer slippers, complete with antlers.

“Sherlock. Wonderful.” Daddy Holmes smiled, stepping towards Sherlock to pull him into an easy hug. “Would it be such a bother for you to text us, let us know where you are? Your mummy was quite worried.” Daddy Holmes scolded Sherlock while holding him at arm’s-length, giving him a thorough once-over. “You look well for a change, my boy!” Daddy squeezed his shoulders, releasing him to turn to John.

“And John. Welcome, son.” Daddy Holmes shook John’s hand, stepping closer for a light embrace. “Katy and I are so happy you could join us to celebrate this year.” He stepped back, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “We’ve been begging Sherlock to bring you up for a visit, he keeps putting us off.” 

John was overwhelmed at the Holmes’ welcome and their effortless affection. It was just such a different home dynamic than he had experienced growing up. He had to admit, Sherlock’s parents were not at all what he had expected...they were so loving and kind to each other! I’ve seen glimpses of them in Sherlock, he realizes, glancing at his detective, especially recently.

“Mr. Holmes, thank you for the invitation.” John stuffs his hands in his pockets, feeling shy in the face of so much friendly acceptance. “Your slippers are fantastic!” 

“Call me Dad, please, John. I look forward to getting to know you in person, we’ve heard such amazing stories from Sherlock. And of course, we read your blog.” Daddy Holmes turned towards the kitchen, following Mummy. “I have my Katy to thank for these monstrosities,” he did a shuffling dance to show off the slippers. “That’s what love does to you, John. You end up wearing ridiculous holiday slippers!” Daddy chuckled, bending down to kiss Mummy’s cheek.

“Oh, you!” Mummy batted at Dad good naturedly. “You know you like them, admit it.” She giggled.

“Not as much as I adore you.” replied Dad. “Now boys, let’s get your bags out of the hall. Sherlock, don’t you make John carry all those himself!”

Sherlock turned back from the staircase. “Apologies, John. Allow me to carry this one.” He smirked, grabbing the smallest of the bags from John’s grasp. “Follow me!” Sherlock bounded up the narrow stairs.

The staircase turned on a landing halfway up, eventually ending at a wide hallway, doors on either side. Sherlock turned to the right and walked to the end. “This door at the end is the washroom we’ll be sharing, John. I usually take the room here at the back, I like the view.” Sherlock pushed open the door to reveal a cozy room with a sloped ceiling. It had a dormer window and window seat piled high with cushions. The walls were a pleasant shade of sage green, which complemented the nature theme of artwork on the walls. The bed took up most of the space, looking crisp and inviting covered with a puffy white duvet and pillows. One whole wall was built in bookcases, filled to bursting with all kinds of titles.

“I can see why you would like this room.” John set Sherlock’s bags at the end of the bed. “Have you read all of these books?” John walked over to investigate the bookshelves, interested in a few titles already.

“Yes, unless my parents have added to the collection recently.” Sherlock stepped towards the door. “Feel free to borrow any you like, John.” Sherlock loved when John’s interest was piqued, he lit up with an internal glow. “Would you like to see your room now?” he asked.

John turned, tearing himself away from the stacks of books. “I would, yeah. Thanks, Sherlock.” He followed Sherlock to the room directly across the hall. 

Sherlock opened the door with a theatrical flourish. “Make yourself at home, John.” John followed his friend into the room, carrying his bags.  
“Wow, this is really nice.” John took in the details slowly. The room was painted a robin’s egg blue, with a white cast iron bed in the center. There were windows on either side, and a beautiful carved wooden chest at the foot of the bed. Where Sherlock’s room had a wall of bookcase, John’s had a white brick fireplace. There were two low, velvet armchairs in front of the fire. The wood floor was covered with a gorgeous but worn Persian rug in patterns of blue and green. John placed his bags on the floor and sat down on the wooden chest. 

Okay, be brave, Watson. John lifted his face to make eye contact with Sherlock. “Would you sit down, Sherlock? I think we need to talk.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A belated Merry Christmas, my friends! Apologies that I missed posting on the holiday itself, I was traveling to visit relatives in Russia. I made it to Moscow on Christmas night, and now I'm writing in their cozy living room. It just started snowing outside, and I can see the buildings outlined in colored lights from my window...the wintry scene put me in the perfect mood for this chapter. Enjoy!
> 
> -SHismyBFF

CHAPTER 8

“Boys! Tea is ready!” Mummy called up the stairs. 

Sherlock looked down at John, sharing a wry grin. “I would also like to...ummm...talk...about some things, John.” Sherlock shifted a little uncomfortably. “Mummy’s timing is nothing if not inopportune...to be continued?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“Sure, to be continued.” John felt deflated. Working up the courage to be open about feelings takes a lot out of a man, he thought. “I’m asking to see baby photos, Sherlock. Don’t think I won’t!” John giggled at the horror-stricken look on Sherlock’s face.

They joined Mummy and Dad at the kitchen table for tea and a staggering array of holiday treats. Sherlock nabbed more than a few mince pies before they had even sat down, greedily eyeing up the plate of stollen as well.

“John, how do you take your tea?” asked Mummy, preparing to pour into a large mug.

“Milk, no sugar.” Sherlock replied quickly, earning a knowing glance from both Mummy and Dad.

“Thanks, Mum.” John took the offered mug, enjoying the way it felt to address her as ‘Mum’, it was unexpectedly comforting. “Is that peppermint fudge? That’s my favorite!” John helped himself to a piece of the rich dessert. “Did you make this yourself?” he asked.

“I did, John. I love to bake. There are a few things I make every year, as tradition, you know. But when Sherlock called me with a list of your favorite foods, I was happy to have some new recipes to try!” Mummy failed to notice the blush taking over Sherlock’s face as she spoke.

“Ahem...yes, well...what are the plans for this evening?” Sherlock clumsily tried to change the subject, avoiding John’s fond gaze.

Mummy finally took a seat, after serving Dad his tea. “Well, I thought we would go down to the village, the WI is sponsoring a carol sing at Town Hall tonight. That should get us in a festive mood!” Mummy took a delicate bite of some shortbread, wiping up dropped crumbs with a napkin.

Dad looked at her over the edge of his mug, harrumphing in amusement. Sherlock narrowed his eyes in inquiry, studying his mother. She returned his look defensively, shooting an annoyed glance at her husband.

“Ah, the feud with...what’s her name...Kath? Finally over, then?” Sherlock asked with an impertinent grin.

“Who’s Kath?” John asked, raising his eyebrows in interest.

Sherlock reached across John to grab a gingerbread cookie. “A busybody from the village, John. My mother’s arch nemesis, if you will.” John’s mouth dropped open, unsure how to respond.

“Now, don’t be ridiculous, Sherlock!” Mummy looked exasperated. “Of course she’s not my nemesis. She’s just the secretary of the local WI, and happens to be a complete cow.”

John spluttered, spraying his tea in an impressive arc. “Sorry, sorry…” he took the napkin Sherlock offered and began to wipe up his mess. “I just didn’t expect that description!” He began to laugh, along with both Dad and Sherlock. Mummy eyed all three of them in miffed silence.

“Now, I’m afraid, I’ll need a bit more background, Mum. What has this Kath done to you?” John tried valiantly to compose himself. It was actually Dad who answered, though.

“Don’t get her started, John, we’ll never hear the end of it. I believe the most recent offense was when Kath told all the WI members that my Katy’s fruitcake was store bought.” He looked at his wife affectionately.

Mummy was indignant. “I slaved over that cake since September, Charles. Adding brandy every week until it could have sloshed itself down to the WI meeting.” She paused, aggressively buttering a scone. “See if I ever make that kind of effort for the likes of them again!” Mummy took a deep breath. “Now, more tea for anyone?”

The carol sing turned out to be quite a joyous gathering. Apparently, feuds could be set aside for the enjoyment of holiday festivities. It was nice to see Mum and Dad socialize with so many of their neighbors, they were obviously well-liked and respected by many. (Although it wasn’t hard for John to identify Kath, who did indeed stand out in her role as the village busybody.)

They wrapped up in warm winter attire before stepping into the chill outside of Town Hall. “Would you like to walk around for a bit, boys?” asked Mum. “The Christmas lights in the square are quite nice, and I believe some of the shops are open for a few hours yet.” Mummy tucked her arm through Dad’s, cuddling in close to his side. “How about we meet at the car in an hour?”

Sherlock and John agreed, heading off on their own in the crisp air, snow cracking under their boots.

John tucked his hands deep into his pockets and looked around the square appreciatively. “The stars out here are almost as bright as the fairy lights.” He remarked. “Your parents are really sweet together.” John nudged Sherlock with his elbow.

Sherlock hummed his agreement. “They have been through a lot in their time together, I believe it has forged a very strong bond.” Sherlock’s breath crystallized, visible in the frigid air. “A bit like us, I suppose.” He wanted to reach out, wanted to hold John’s hand...wanted to hold him close again. “I admit, there are not many things that I don’t understand, John. But relationships...I don’t have practical experience to draw upon.” He kept his eyes trained forward.

John looked up at Sherlock’s profile. He’s opening up to me, I can’t mess this up - please don’t let me mess this up, he thought. “We seem to be dancing around the edges of a... change... in our relationship,” John stumbled a bit finding his words. “But I need to know, Sherlock, Do you have...I mean, umm...Do you have...romantic feelings...for me?” John asked in that low, serious tone of voice he used when he was being, well, serious. 

Sherlock stopped walking, turning to face John in the glow of the village Christmas tree. He took a few moments to answer, studying John’s upturned face, which was so familiar to him. Data from the experiments points to John responding positively to this declaration...so why am I so scared? Courage, Holmes.

Snow had just begun to fall. Sherlock reached up, running his thumb over John’s cheek, collecting snowflakes. “I love you, John.” As he had hoped, he saw the love and desire he felt for this wonderful man mirrored in John’s eyes, in the curve of his lips. “I must confess to you that my understanding of romance and relationships is limited at best...but what I know is how you make me feel complete when we are together. How I feel empty when we are apart. I...John, I…” Sherlock stopped speaking, because John had lifted his hands to Sherlock’s shoulders and was pulling him close.

John leaned in, their foreheads touching, sharing the warmth of breath in the cold night air. “You are the most brilliant, captivating, magnificent, lovely man, Sherlock.” John’s voice sounded choked with emotion. He took a deep breath in before he continued. “As you have undoubtedly observed, I struggle with relationships as well. Would you...do you want to…” John was shaking with emotion under Sherlock’s hands. “We could figure it out together, yeah?” John moved forward, gently kissing Sherlock’s lips. It was glorious.

They stood, leaning into one another, indulging in this first moment of mutual understanding, enjoying the shift from friends to more than. Sherlock was the first to step back, leaving John feeling the chill of his absence.

“The first thing we have to figure out, John, is what to give my father tomorrow...we never did get around to getting him a Christmas gift.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, my friends! 2020 at last. Hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> \- SHismyBFF

CHAPTER 9

Seeing as it was late on Christmas Eve, the shop selection for suitable gifts was minimal. After some spirited bickering and a few silent sulks, Sherlock and John finally agreed on a gift for Dad. Inside the final shop, there was a basket by the door with a sign stating “Free to a Good Home”. Sherlock reached into the basket, gently lifting out a tiny black puppy.

As he held him up to get a good look, the sleepy pup did a huge yawn, concluding with a thick pink tongue licking Sherlock on the nose. Sherlock turned to John with a pleading look.

“There hasn’t been a dog in the house for years, John. I know Dad wants one, and Mummy can’t say no if he’s a gift.” Sherlock tucked the puppy into the folds of his great coat.

“There’s no way we’re wrapping him, Sherlock. Don’t even think about it!” John looked at the puppy sceptically. “How do you propose getting him home?” Shopping with Sherlock had been a trial, and John was tired. Sherlock decided to forgive him for being a bit grumpy. 

Sherlock transferred the warm bundle of fur to John’s hands. John instinctually cradled the pup to his chest, rubbing his nose on the puppy’s head. “I believe he is so young that I could carry him in my coat in the car, and no one would be the wiser.” Sherlock looked around the shop, quickly locating an assistant. “Excuse me, Miss…”

Within twenty minutes, they had gathered a puppy basket, food, and toys. John, ever the practical one, grabbed a package of puppy pads that he hoped would at least get them through the night. As Sherlock was carrying the furry babe, John was elected to lug the packages back to the car.

“Well, look at you two, you’ve been busy! What have you got there?” Mummy circled round the back of the car to open the boot for John.

“You should know better than to ask that question, Mum...it’s Christmas!” John smiled as he deposited the packages into the car. He caught Sherlock’s eye as he slid into the back seat, winking conspiratorially.

Mummy settled into the front seat next to Dad. “But what have you been up to? Dad and I have been waiting here for almost an hour.”

Sherlock huffed in exasperation. “You heard John, Mummy...no questions!”   
Sherlock was right...as usual, thought John. The tiny pup slept quietly all the way back to the cottage. If the Holmes parents thought it strange that Sherlock wore his coat upstairs, they decided to ignore it.

John retrieved the puppy supplies from the car, and followed Sherlock up to his room. John set up puppy pads in and around the basket, which they decided would be safest on the floor inside Sherlock’s closet. Sherlock wrapped the pup in a fleece blanket, tucking him in while John filled a small dish of water. They carefully closed the closet door, agreeing to meet downstairs for a nightcap.

John changed into pajama pants and an old sweater before making his way downstairs. The sitting room looked like a set from The Nutcracker ballet, with an enormous tree taking center stage. It was beautifully decorated with tinsel, ornaments and candles. There was even a toy train running around the base. There was a fire crackling merrily in the large stone fireplace, with red, white, gold, and green stockings hanging from the mantle. John turned from the magical scene, hearing Dad enter the room.

“John, you look like a whiskey man, am I right?” Dad offered a glass with a healthy pour to John.

“Thank you, sir. Cheers!” John accepted the drink and took a seat on the sofa facing the fireplace. He took a grateful sip of the honeyed liquid. “Oooh, that is good.” He relaxed back against the cushions.

They sat together in silence for a while, watching the fire and enjoying the whiskey. Eventually, Dad set his glass down on the side table and leaned forward a bit, bracing his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. “John, I hope you’ll indulge an old man...I’ve something that I’d like to speak with you about.” Dad gave John a serious, level look.

“Of course, sir. What’s on your mind?” John questioned, feeling suddenly nervous at Dad’s tone. 

“Our Sherlock...he’s always been headstrong. Maybe a bit quieter in some ways...and in other ways…” Dad hesitated, searching for words. “I guess what I’m getting at is that... Katy and I can see how much you mean to our son.” Dad picked up his drink and took a long swallow. “We’re so happy you’ve found each other...you seem good for each other. But…”

John interrupted Dad, reaching his hand out to touch the arm of his chair. “Sir...I think I know what you’re getting at. I assure you, I would never do anything to hurt Sherlock.” John stared down at his hands, now clasped tightly around his knees. “In fact, I owe him my life. I’d do anything for your son, sir. He’s the most brilliant, surprising, resourceful...kind, caring and beautiful person I’ve ever known.” John made eye contact with Dad, deciding to share something extremely personal with him. “Sherlock and I...he told me he loves me.” John paused, still in wonder that Sherlock felt this way about him. “Tonight, he just told me tonight. Sir, I believe I...feel the same about him.” John didn’t want to say the actual words aloud until he had said them to Sherlock. “He’s been my best friend for as long as I’ve known him. Being in his life has been a great adventure so far, and I’m looking forward to a future with him in it.” John sat back, downing the rest of his whiskey in one big gulp. “As long as he’ll have me.”

By the end of John’s disclosure, Dad’s eyes were wet with unshed tears. “That’s wonderful, John. Wonderful news.” Dad wiped at his eyes, sitting back in his chair. “Just, please...please be gentle with him?” Dad shook his head, rubbing at the back of his neck. “He’s a lot like me, you see. He may appear to be tough...but his heart...John, his heart is…” Dad hesitated.

“I know, Dad. Believe me, I know.” John suddenly wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around his detective. “I think I’ll go find him, if you don’t mind?” John stood up, putting his hand out to Dad.

Dad grasped it, the two men shaking hands in understanding. “Merry Christmas, John.”

“Merry Christmas, Dad. Good night.” John made his way back upstairs, pulling his mobile from his pocket to text Sherlock.

Where are you??

Pretty sure your Dad just gave me the “if you hurt him, I’ll kill you” talk

Ridiculous. - SH 

Mycroft would get to you first. -SH

Very funny.

Are you coming up? - SH

On my way now, why?

Bring paper towels and bin bags - SH

Oh no. 

Have you been playing with the puppy this whole time?

John. Hurry. This smell will not go undetected. - SH

John chuckled as he turned, heading back down and into the kitchen. This was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm accepting suggestions for the puppy's name!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! (Today is "old" New Year, as celebrated in Russia) 
> 
> And the story is now complete. I'd like to thank everyone who sent me suggestions for the puppy name, especially the one I chose, from reader a2Zeeee. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> \- SHismyBFF

CHAPTER 10

John groaned as he rolled over, the first rays of sunlight assaulting his eyes. The puppy had kept both him and Sherlock busy most of the night, John didn’t even remember getting himself into Sherlock’s bed. 

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Sherlock was on his hands and knees, wiping up yet another accident. “I am loathe to admit this, but Mummy may have had a point. We are never getting a dog, John.”

John grunted in agreement. “Well, at least not a puppy...maybe we could rescue an older dog that’s already house trained.” John was laying on his side, head resting on his arm, appreciating the sight of Sherlock’s bum - marveling that he was allowed to appreciate said bum openly now.

A knock at the door had them both scrambling. John sat up, straightening out the bedclothes while Sherlock quickly pushed all puppy related items into his closet. He slammed the door shut just as his bedroom door opened.

Mummy glanced around the room suspiciously. “Merry Christmas, boys...is everything alright in here? Daddy and I thought we heard noises last night…?” Mummy scrunched her nose delicately, unsure what she was smelling in the room.

“John has nightmares, Mummy. We apologize for disturbing you.” Sherlock glared at John meaningfully.

“Ah...yes, um...sorry, Mum. I had trouble sleeping last night. I hope we didn’t bother you too much?” John didn’t have to feign the embarrassed blush staining his cheeks.

“Not at all, John, don’t you worry yourself!” Mummy said briskly but sympathetically. “Now, let’s get down to the kitchen for some breakfast, why don’t we?” Mummy began to step into the room, then seemed to think better of it. “And Sherlock, bring down any laundry you might have, alright? I’ll throw a load in and have it back to you this afternoon.” She turned to leave. “See you both downstairs!”

John grabbed a pillow from behind himself and threw it at Sherlock, hitting him squarely in the face. “What was that for?!” Sherlock squawked indignantly. 

“You’re supposedly the genius, can’t you figure it out?” John’s face had turned bright red at the laundry comment. “Thanks for throwing me under the bus, Sherlock”. John threw himself back onto the bed.

Sherlock continued to look at John questioningly. 

“Jesus, Sherlock. Not only does your Mum think we slept together, she probably thinks I wet the bed because of my nightmares!” John buried his head under the remaining pillows in embarrassment as understanding finally dawned on Sherlock’s face.

“There is a strong scent of urine in here, John. She’ll need to become accustomed to it, it could take up to a month for Dad to train the little beast.” Sherlock stood, carrying the pillow back to the bed. 

He took a moment to appreciate the sight of John spread across his bed, his sweater pulled up to reveal a tempting strip of skin. It was regrettable that their first night as a couple had been spent wrangling his father’s Christmas gift, rather than each other.

Sherlock dropped the pillow onto John, then threw himself down to cover the doctor. He was rewarded with a surprised squawk, which quickly turned into John’s signature giggle. John threw his elbow back, connecting sharply with Sherlock’s midriff, which earned him a loud “Ooofffhhh!” in return. John twisted himself around, pulling Sherlock into a more comfortable position. John lay his head down in the crook of Sherlock’s arm, resting on his shoulder. Sherlock wrapped his arms around the doctor, gently squeezing him and kissing John’s temple.

“Merry Christmas, John.” Sherlock whispered. He felt rather than saw John’s answering smile.

John turned his head, propping his chin on Sherlock’s chest, in order to look the detective in the eye. “I love you, too, you know?” John squeezed his eyes shut, feeling more emotion than he could express out loud. “So much, Sherlock. I just love you so much.” His voice was low and husky as he reached up to kiss Sherlock’s lips. This felt so right, the two of them together, like this. 

“I know, John.” Sherlock answered eventually, squeezing John and nuzzling his hair. “I had deduced as much, you see.” He smirked down at his blogger. “Now, how do you suggest we release this puppy on the household?”

After sharing a delicious holiday breakfast, the family gathered in the sitting room to open gifts. Mummy had lit the fairy lights on the tree while Dad built up the fire. Sherlock and John wrestled over the smart TV remote, finally agreeing on an instrumental holiday playlist.

“Oh, I do wish Myc had been able to join us. I was holding out hope that he might just pop in, unexpectedly.” Mummy sounded quite disappointed.

“Yes, like a Dickensian ghost, perhaps.” Sherlock earned a swat from Mummy.

“Sherlock, why don’t you play Father Christmas for us?” Mummy settled into the sofa with Dad while Sherlock began dividing the gifts into piles.

John was surprised at how many presents he was receiving, expecting only one or two. Sherlock’s cheeks flushed as he met John’s questioning gaze. “I may have gone a bit overboard, John. I hope you don’t mind.” He took a seat next to John on the rug in front of the fire.

John took his hand lightly. “Why would I mind? It means you’ve been thinking of me.” He whispered softly, leaning in and brushing Sherlock’s cheek with his lips. He enjoyed watching Sherlock’s face go from a light flush to a bright crimson. Mummy and Dad were observing them fondly, holding hands themselves.

The morning was filled with thoughtful gifts being unwrapped and appreciated. Mummy laughed out loud when she lifted her new pie dish from the box. “Oh, boys...that is ridiculous! I love it!” She exclaimed.

When it appeared there were no gifts left to unwrap, Sherlock stood up. “If you would excuse me, I believe I left a few gifts upstairs.” He tripped over a pile of wrapping paper and ribbon, catching himself and recovering his balance gracefully.

Mummy had started to collect the remainders of ripped paper and bags when Sherlock reappeared. One hand carried a large gift bag, the other a sturdy looking flat package. Sherlock handed the flat package to John with a smile and a wink, then turned to Dad. “Merry Christmas, Dad. This is from both John and I, and it cannot be returned.” He handed Dad the bag, returning to sit next to John.

Dad set the bag on the floor, removing the fluff of tissue paper from the top. “Oh my word, look Katy! It’s a puppy!” He scooped the little beast from the gift bag. “I’ve been missing having a dog around the place. Oh, he’s sleepy.”

“Of course he’s asleep now,” complained Sherlock. “He kept John and I up all night!”

Dad held the puppy up for Mummy to inspect. She sighed in resignation. “That explains the strange sounds from your room last night.” She chuckled, taking the puppy in her arms for a cuddle. “This puppy will be quite a handful, Charles. I hope you know it’s up to you to care for it!” She sounded stern, but her expression was loving as she snuggled the small pup. “I suppose he needs a name, what would you like to call him?”

“He reminds me of a dog I knew when I was a boy,” said Dad. “I think we’ll call him Archie.” Mummy stood, depositing Archie on Dad’s lap. “Nice to meet you, Archie. All right, I’m going to take a nap before Christmas lunch. See you all in a bit.” Mummy gathered some gifts to carry upstairs with her. Dad settled back on the sofa, closing his eyes as he ran his hand over Archie’s back. The sounds of light snoring could soon be heard from their direction.

John looked at Sherlock, raising his eyebrows. “What’s this then?” He leaned into Sherlock’s side, holding up the flat package.

“Why don’t you apply my methods of deduction, John?” Sherlock said with a smile. 

“Well, it’s flat, about the size of that envelope you had delivered from Mycroft...oh no, is this a gift from Mycroft?!” John pulled a face. He undid the paper, pulling out a thick manila folder.

Sherlock nodded his encouragement. “Technically, you are correct. But it’s a gift for both of us, actually.” Sherlock smiled at John’s raised eyebrows. “It’s a case, John!” he said, gleefully.

“Ummm...great. That’s...exciting.” John loved going on cases, he really did. But when they were on a case, the Work takes priority, obviously. A small part of him was hoping they would have a few days together...now that they were...together. Without distractions like work and cases...Oh well, can’t be helped, he thought.

Sherlock watched all of these thoughts cross John’s expressive face. He smiled, putting his arm around his doctor. “Don’t worry, John. You’ll like this one.” Sherlock opened the folder, pulling out a travel brochure. “Mycroft needs some legwork done in the British Virgin Islands. We’ll make quick work of it, then have a holiday there, until you have to go back to work, if you’d like.”

John smiled as he flipped through the brochure, imagining swimming in the Caribbean with Sherlock, drinking a cold beer on the beach, napping in hammocks…”That sounds perfect, Sherlock. I can’t wait.” John lay his head on Sherlock’s shoulder, the long night beginning to catch up with him.

Sherlock took the folder, setting it aside. “That’s good, John, because we leave after lunch. Did you happen to pack your gun?” He asked, ignoring the incredulous look John gave him.

“Why would I have brought my gun to your parents’ house?” John asked. Sherlock just looked at him. “Yes, all right, I have it.” He grumbled.

“That’s perfect, John. We make the perfect team.” The detective leaned over, kissing his doctor soundly. “Merry Christmas, John”.


End file.
